The Other Newspaper is visiting Val d’Isère. I notice a yellow dot up in the hill. Nice turn. Red scarf. There is something wrong. Another nice turn. Down on the buttocks. Up again. Nice turn. Conclusion: Skiwear has not reached the combination of action and cool relaxation. This man is uncool and looks sour while he hammers his ski sticks into the snow and snaps into his iPhone. Definitely gay. I say this despite I belong to a mental minority. Suddenly I realize that my body language reveals long exhausting dialogues with myself. Then, to my relief, I notice a woman tearing down the hill who sees liberatingly normal. She slides elegantly past us and stops at a stuffed horse with an advertisement at the foot of the hill. Then something unbearable happens. She pats the horse and starts yodeling.
